Phantom Limb
by RamblesAndThoughts
Summary: Summary: "If you like Kuroko, why does Aomine's opinion matter to you?" – In which Satsuki reflects on Taiga's question. Prompt 05: Bonds


Phantom Limb

_Summary:_ "If you like Kuroko, why does Aomine's opinion matter to you?" – In which Satsuki reflects on Taiga's question. Prompt 05: Bonds

_A/N:_ This one is a personal favorite of mine – the idea of it has been bugging me ever since I first saw that episode, so I'm glad to have the opportunity to write it now in celebration of AoMomo week :)

_Phantom Limb Syndrome (n.) – t__he perception of sensations, including pain, in a limb that has been amputated_

_._

_._

_._

She can't recall how long it has been.

Sitting on her bed with her knees drawn close to her chest, Satsuki watched with lifeless eyes as the storm outside continued to rage on. Violent rain beat down in sheets as the winds howled and screeched in agony. A bright flash of light followed by a loud crack resonated throughout the sleepy town and the pink-haired girl shivered.

Drawing her small frame closer, she tugged on the frays of the blanket draped over her shoulders. Breathing in the familiar scent, she exhaled deep, calming breaths. Having now grasped the rhythm of this storm, she prepared herself for the next round of firing.

And, alone in the privacy of her dark room, she started to count the seconds.

Yet, despite her accuracy, she was still startled when the sharp clap of thunder pierced through the night sky.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, she roughly pushed back a strayed lock of hair. Her mind swam with anxiety as she wished that this storm would just hurry up and be done with already.

Anything was preferable over this slow, prolonged form of torture.

Satsuki caught sight of another flash of lightning, and she steeled her nerves.

It has been a while since she has experienced such unease with her childhood phobia. Most of the storms in this part of area had been mild and few in between. But, on the unlucky occasion that a huge storm would hit, it would persist for days.

On rare days like these, Satsuki would always be reminded of her dark childhood memories and, specifically, her near death experience in her tenth year. Fortunately, Daiki had found her shortly after – in which she had been crying under a tree as she blubbered to him about how she had almost been struck by lightning – and, with surprising gentleness, he had comforted her.

It was because of him that her phobia hadn't evolved beyond the slight anxiety she would now feel whenever thunderstorm clouds formed in the distance. For, had she been alone during that initial attack many years ago, Satsuki was sure that her phobia would have gotten a lot worse.

Trying to calm the twisting feeling in her stomach, she exhaled another deep breath.

Her blanket provided a small measure of security – a sense of protection, if she were to be honest – as she cocooned herself in its warmth. Yet, no matter how tightly she wrapped herself in it, her body continued to vibrate with nervous jitters.

Outside, the storm showed no intentions of relenting anytime soon – its loud claps continued to shake the foundations of her core as the wind and rain roared in background.

And, inside, Satsuki warred with her own internal battle.

The hurtful things they had said to one another echoed again in her mind, and she pushed down the small part of her that felt guilty for throwing a clipboard at him.

_He deserved it_, she reminded herself. She had only been looking out for his best interest when she made that decision – he can't afford to get _another_ injury – and what had that earned her in the end? Certainly not his gratitude or understanding. That selfish jerk!

Daiki's expression flashed through her mind and a shiver ran up her spine when she considered how pissed off he had looked. With a small sigh, Satsuki felt all the fight being drained out of her as her shoulders slumped.

She hated fighting with him.

Their daily bickers didn't count since those were petty arguments and they have at least three a day. At this point, it practically defined their friendship. But actual fighting?

That was something that they rarely did and, each time, Satsuki would be reminded of how cruel Daiki could be, of how explosive his anger was and, given the opportunity, of how sharply his words could pierced through her.

Lips twisted in a disgusted sneer, he had yelled those hateful things at her with not a single ounce of regret in those cold, cobalt eyes.

And, in that moment, her heart had stopped beating.

Her blood had run cold.

And, faced with all of his rage, she almost didn't recognize him – unable to reconcile her memories of her childhood best friend with the hurtful man who has now possessed his body and said those poisonous things to her.

Things that _her Dai-chan_ would never, in a million years, ever thought to say.

Satsuki didn't understand.

How could things have gone so wrong in such a short amount of time?

How could everything be this ruined when, not too long ago, things had been great?

Up until their final year at Teikou, everyone had been smiling.

Basketball had been fun.

And Daiki – _Dai-chan_ – had been radiant.

Finally, he had a team to inspire and to challenge him.

He had been happy.

He had been _alive_.

And, in their champion game during their second year, she had never seen wider smile.

His grin had threatened to split his face in half as he looped one arm over Ki-chan's shoulders and the two boys screamed with unbridled pride and joy as they celebrated their second consecutive win.

And Satsuki had cried that day. But unlike their third win that following year – where she had expressed disappointment and fear that maybe things were changing for the worse – on that day, she had cried because she was so happy for them.

They were her boys.

They had worked hard to get to that point.

And they had won spectacularly.

But, maybe, that was the problem.

Things had been _too_ good, _too_ fortunate for them. And, in life, there were no free giveaways.

So, it shouldn't come as a surprise for her that, by their third year, the cracks had already started to appear.

.

.

.

Another sharp crack of thunder cut through the air and she flinched again.

Lost in her thoughts, she had failed to keep track of her tallying.

But perhaps that was for the best.

It hadn't helped her at all and, instead, had made her anxious with nervous anticipation. She pushed the thought of what she would have normally done in situations like this out of her mind. He wasn't here at the moment and, besides, she wasn't sure where they now stood with each other after their disastrous fight.

Still, she couldn't help but feel a small pang of ache in her chest at the thought of experiencing her first thunderstorm since the accident without him.

Could this be the beginning of a numerous firsts that she would experience without him?

Somehow, that thought made her heart ached even more.

Growing up, they were always Daiki and Satsuki to everyone – two peas in a pod. One was never too far away from the other. And, over the years, they had come to form a unit, a team of two – and any big decision either of them made would irrevocably affected the other and vice versa.

Taiga's questions flashed in her mind, and Satsuki smiled with humor.

It hadn't been the first time that someone had questioned her about her loyalty to Daiki. From an outsider's perspective, Daiki and her had practically nothing in common.

He was a grouch and – more often than not – he was rude, impatient, and, these days, much more hostile.

So why would someone like her stick around for someone like that?

Why did she choose Touou, despite knowing that Tetsu-kun was attending Seirin?

It wasn't an easy decision to make, but the answer was simple:

Aomine Daiki was her best friend.

And, despite all the hurtful things he might have said to her, he was still her best friend and she still cared deeply for him.

She hadn't been lying when she said that she loved Tetsu-kun. But what she hadn't said was that she also loved Daiki too.

How could she not?

They have been together for far too long; had too much shared history between them. And, though he could be an insensitive jerk, he still held her hand when she had been afraid all those years ago.

So, no. She can't abandon him.

Because to do so – to choose Seirin over Touou – would be seen as a slap to his face; a gesture to cut all ties with him. And that was something that she could not allow.

Thus, despite her love for Tetsu-kun and her personal feelings regarding teamwork, Satsuki valued her friendship with Daiki more.

Even now, in the midst of their fighting, she still missed him.

His absence ate away at her like a phantom limb – yearning for something that she did not have at the moment, while aching from the pain that it was causing her.

.

.

.

The pink-haired girl stared in shock – not even sure if he was actually in her room right now or if her mind was playing tricks on her.

"Are you just going to look at me with that expression all day?"

Her left eye twitched in response to his brusque tone.

Well, that certainly had answered her question.

On a normal day, she would have responded to his rudeness with an attitude of her own. But, for today, she was tired. A sense of weariness engulfed her, and she tugged the blankets closer.

The thunderstorm continued to rage on and Satsuki briefly wondered if the streets were now flooded.

Daiki, undeterred by her silence, walked closer to the edge of the bed.

Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his shorts, he started to look around her room as if it were his first time there. His cobalt gaze stopped short when he saw a crinkled picture of their Teikou days peeking out from under her pillow. Judging from the brilliant smile on his younger self's face, he assumed that it had been taken shortly after their win in their second year.

Because there was no way that would have happened in their third year.

Old memories began to resurface and, suddenly, he started to feel tired too. Pushing thoughts of their middle school days away, his gaze shifted to his childhood friend – who was still cocooned underneath all her blanket.

He sighed.

"You're still afraid of thunder?"

Satsuki snapped her gaze away from the windows. Narrowing her eyes, she felt her irritation beginning to grow again as she glared at him.

"Is that why you're here?" She asked – fury brimming over the edge as he looked back at her with an unreadable expression. Unbelievable. "If you're here to mock me –" Whatever threat she was about to say would never be expressed since Daiki chose that moment to interrupt.

"— I didn't mean it."

She stopped short. Her forehead crinkled in confusion initially as the seconds ticked on.

A flash of lightning followed by the clap of thunder rumbled in the background.

Still, neither of them spoke.

She studied him – taking in the slight stiffness in his shoulders as the silence dragged.

At this distance, she could see that some areas of his shirt were darker than others – looking as if the cloth had recently been wet. Briefly, she wondered if he had been out in the rain.

Daiki pulled out one hand from his pockets and, avoiding her eyes, rubbed the back of his neck as he studied the floorboard. The gesture was so familiar to her that she couldn't help the slight twitch of her lips as she tried not to smile.

Yet, it was also painful for her as well.

He licked his lips – having suddenly gone dry – as he prepared himself to say what he had came here to say.

"What I said earlier…I didn't mean any of it."

The silence continued to tick on. Satsuki didn't fully process his words until a few seconds had passed. And, upon her realization, her eyes widened.

Though he hadn't exactly said the words, Daiki was basically apologizing.

In all the years she had known him, she could count on a single hand the number of times he had apologized to her and had actually _meant _it. Usually, it would be said with sarcasm or with cheek and, more often than not, would only be uttered to pacify their parents or the teachers nearby.

So, in the rare occasions that Daiki would genuinely apologize for something, it would never consist of the actual words, '_I'm sorry'._ Maybe that would have bothered others, but Satsuki didn't need the verbal validation.

Instead, his remorse was conveyed in his actions, his tone, and his body language, and that meant more to her than any apology anyone could have given to her.

Satsuki sighed – the day's taxing events have really taken a toll on her body.

Shrugging, she gave him a tired smile.

"I know."

He looked back at her when he heard the gentle forgiveness in her voice.

She gave him a quizative look when his gaze turned curious and began to search her expression. And, after a while, his posture relaxed slightly – as if he had found what he had been looking for.

She frowned, not sure what had just occurred, but Daiki had already started to pad closer to her and the bed creaked with the additional weight as he sat down.

He yawned as he flopped down on the bed and closed his eyes. She watched – befuddled – as it appeared that he planned on taking a nap. But, after settling in and folding his arms behind his head, he opened his eyes.

Observing her with a lethargic gaze, he asked,

"How long is this storm going to last again?"

Satsuki wrinkled her nose. The weatherman had said all of tonight and would maybe extend into tomorrow's afternoon. She hoped it wouldn't.

She told him this, but he just made a contemplative sound at the back of his throat before closing his eyes again.

Her annoyance flared. Did this guy seriously just invaded her room – not to mention her bed – and was now sleeping and leaving her to deal with the storm by herself?

Why, right when she had just forgiven him too –

"Why are you still sitting there?" Peeking one eye opened, he frowned at her. "You're not tired or something?"

Daiki waited for her to connect the dots and could literally pinpoint the exact moment when she had finally understood the meaning behind his question. He rolled his eyes but Satsuki allowed it to slide as he had, without saying the words, just told her that he planned on staying with her for the night to weather out this storm.

She quickly scooted over – feeling lighter than before as she curled up to his side. He grunted when she accidently kicked him in the shin but, after a few seconds, they were both content with their arrangement.

They lay in a compatible silence.

And, outside, the storm continued to roar.

But right now, warm and cocooned in her blanket, Satsuki felt safe and protected as she listened to the quiet sounds of Daiki's breathing. The slow, up and down rhythmic movements of his chest lulled her; his warmth and presence comforting and inviting.

It was in moments like these – when the rest of the world seemed to fade away and it was only the two of them – that gave Satsuki hope.

She knew how others perceived him – how he was viewed as uncaring, uncompassionate, and selfish (well, she wasn't about to argue about the third one). But as for the first two, they were wrong.

Others didn't understand why she stuck with him, and she hadn't expected them to.

The only thing that mattered to her was that Daiki understood.

Just like how his apologies were for her ears only, Satsuki only cared that _he_ understood why she chose Touou – that her actions were her way of supporting him, of showing to him that she still hasn't given up on him yet even if others might have.

But, above all else, her actions were motivated by this one belief:

And that was that her old Dai-chan could still be found.

.

.

.

Outside, the thunderstorm reached its peak.

Satsuki frowned as she considered how terrible the roads must looked by now.

Yet, despite her dislike of thunderstorms, she was excited about something.

Growing up, she has always loved how the air smelled after a huge rain storm.

It was brilliant.

Following its destructive wake, somehow everything smelled more crisp – more _alive. _

And, every time, she would drag Daiki out with her to experience it and, each time, he would humor her.

But that would have to wait for later.

Right now, she was content with just sleeping away the night.

But tomorrow – if the weather permits – they would go outside and experience the crisp, fresh air.

As Satsuki fell into a light sleep, she wondered about the ironic nature of it all:

How interesting it was that, in order to appreciate some things in life, one has to endure the calamity that came before it.


End file.
